


Golden Canvas

by ryuusea



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Frottage, M/M, Tattoo Artist Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuusea/pseuds/ryuusea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before him, is a canvas that is so alive. Levi wants to breathe even more life into it, fill it with tattoos. To match the gold of his skin and the bright eyes that are the color of life itself. [Ereri Secret Santa]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> For the Ereri Secret Santa exchange. I drew something, but then I ended up writing a long drabble to go along with it. You can find the drawing at my art blog: ryuusea.tumblr.com

Levi never took in just anyone to tattoo. He is selective, _obsessive_ even, of his art. No, one does not ask Levi to tattoo them; Levi chooses the bodies and _what_ he tattoos on them. The ink he bleeds into fleshy canvases guide him, and he creates painstakingly intricate paintings on skin. They take him anywhere from weeks to months, and some he adds on continuously for years. Levi’s tattoos are so full of life, rumor was it that he once had a patron die, devoured by the power of the tattoo he received.

And Levi scoffs at the rumor, but even more so when he walks into his guest room where a potential customer — a mere _child_ sits.

Levi’s help, a young orphan girl named Petra, has already let the brat in, probably telling him the long list of requirements that Levi demands of his patrons, if they are accepted, at least.

Levi lets his gaze wander over the guest whose back is to him. Judging from his height and figure, he must be a young boy on the cusp of manhood. He notes that the boy’s hair is damp, meaning he must have returned from the meticulous bathing ritual he demands of all customers before he views them. The boy’s body is swallowed up by a white robe that Petra had provided him. Petra sits in front of the young man, neatly folding the bath towels and she only notices Levi standing at the doorway when she has finished.

"Oh, hello sir," Petra says. "All preparations have been taken care of. He is ready."

She smiles encouragingly at their guest. “Present yourself as I instructed. I will take my leave now.” She stands, wishing him luck in a hushed tone, something she always does for all customers, and Levi pretends to never notice.

Petra gathers the towels in her arms to be laundered, bobbing her head in a polite bow to Levi as she passes him out the room. Only when she has shut the door and her footsteps have faded down the hallway does Levi step forward. He crosses the wooden floor to stand right behind his customer.

"State your name, boy."

The boy visibly twitches in nervousness, but then he pulls his shoulders back and proclaims in a loud voice, “Eren, of the Jaeger Clan.”

Then, the boy shrugs the robe from his shoulders, and the soft material unfurls, revealing his back — Sunkissed skin, taut over developing muscles that ripple with promise.

Levi’s lips part but a mere fraction, and his eyes sweep down the arch of the boy’s neck and spine, and _oh, is he intrigued_.

And his mouth practically waters as he thinks of tattooing lines to compliment that lovely curving spine. Thick black lines to embrace those shoulders. And all the jewel-like colors he could paint down that tapered waist to wrap around those prominent hips.

The path of Levi’s eyes is stopped by the robes that pool at the waist, held up by the sash tied there. He does not know how long he has been silently regarding this golden canvas, but it must have been long enough for the other to become self-conscious, squirming and drawing Levi’s attention back up to his sharp shoulder blades that jut out at the movement.

"Jaeger, state your business."

"To receive my coming of age tattoos, as newly appointed clan leader."

Levi arches a brow.

"How old are you? Surely you’re not even eighteen yet."

Eren Jaeger turns around finally, and Levi scans the other side of the canvas, appreciating the planes of Eren’s chest and the quiver of stomach muscles.

"Sixteen, sir, but old enough to take over my clan—"

"Oh?" Levi says, and lifts his eyes to finally look at Eren’s face.

Green eyes flash at Levi, anger and passion and youth flaring in them.

"—Avenge my mother’s death, and find the coward of a father who abandoned his people."

"Ohoh," Levi breathes out. "Not bad." 

 _Not bad at all_. Levi has never encountered such _potential_. His fingers twitch and burn with need. Here, before him, is a canvas that is so alive. He wants to breathe even more life into it, fill it with tattoos. To match the gold of his skin and the bright eyes that are the color of life itself.

"Jaeger, you should know that this can take weeks. Months on end, even." And Levi has a policy of not letting patrons leave his house while working on one part of a tattoo. During these sessions, the patron lives in his guest room. After all, he needs to keep his canvases clean.

Eren gulps and nods.

"Or if they cannot take the pain and I let them go. I will not lie to you. It will hurt."

Eren says nothing, but nods again.

"Come then. I will gather my tools."

Levi turns around and hears Eren follow him out the room.

 

—

 

Levi’s work room is the largest in the house, with the sliding doors detachable, so he can let in as much sunlight as possible. He calls on Petra to help him remove the doors, revealing the back garden: trim green bushes, purple plum blossom trees in full bloom, a small pond with silvery fish, and a winding rock pathway. It is a place for Levi to relax and clear his mind for inspiration, but also a view to help distract customers when he works on them. 

Petra disappears again once finished, but she always remains within earshot in case Levi calls on her. Levi orders Eren to disrobe and lie on his stomach atop the mat and blankets Petra had placed in the center of the room.

Eren mutters a “Yes sir,” and with fluttering fingers unties the sash at his waist. Immediately after shirking off the robe, he whips around to hide his front from Levi and drops down to the floor. He remains with his face turned to the mats, his nervousness obvious from the stiffness of his shoulders and the redness that has settled on the tips of his ears.

Levi stands on one side of Eren, toolbox leisurely propped on his hip by his right hand. Now having a full view of the boy’s body, he lets his gaze roam freely. The bottom half he had previously not seen is presented so openly for him now: A tapered waist that swells slightly at the hips, a rounded bottom, and endless legs that he thinks would look splendid inked as well.

Finally, Levi sits down cross-legged and opens his toolbox. He checks over his tools and ink, and the soft clinking makes Eren turn his head curiously to watch him.

Once finished preparing his tools, Levi ties back the sleeves of his robes, and scoots closer to Eren. Settling himself in, he leans over and mutters to Eren that he is starting. Eren’s eyes shift nervously, then he turns his head in the other direction to face away from Levi.

Eren squeaks at the first stab of steel and ink, but braces himself to contain his noises to soft keening and the occasional grunt. Levi is used to all kinds of customers, like some who remain quiet and tight-fisted the entire time, or ones who noisily curse the entire time. When Eren whimpers, Levi pauses and gives him a moment to simply breathe, before continuing. Eren’s ragged breathing and teary-eyed sniffles fade into the background, as Levi is consumed by his art.

He starts off thinking that is a tiger is very fitting for Eren. Fierce and with burning eyes of molten gold, but Levi changes his mind as soon as he begins.

A phoenix, he decides, is much more appropriate. A phoenix is full of fire and over brimming with life. He had felt all those things when he had met Eren’s eyes.

It takes Levi four days to outline the phoenix. Its coiled body is primarily in the middle of Eren’s back, with wings extending on both sides and the tips ending at the shoulders. Its feathered, peacock-like tail wraps down onto one buttock.

Levi teaches Eren how to properly care for his healing tattoo, before sending him home and scheduling their next session. When he asks Eren if he is alright, he notes how Eren’s eyes are still watery from the stinging of his tattoo, but behind the glassy sheen, his resolve still glows brightly.

 

—

 

One month passes before Eren comes by again. Eren apologizes and explains all the rituals he had to go through on becoming clan leader. Levi listened but waved it off, and asked Eren if he was ready for the next step.

"Yes, I’m ready," Eren proclaims. Levi checks Eren’s eyes, finding the fire there stronger than when he first arrived. He uses that to fuel the red, orange, and gold he uses to color in the phoenix. He does not touch the wings, though, not yet sure what to color them.

 

—

 

More months pass. With each session, Levi notices new scars that mar Eren’s skin. They fade, turn white, and Levi’s lip curls when he thinks how they are a stain on his canvas. However, instead of hating them, he turns them into curly white clouds and churning black sea waves.

 

—

 

A year and three months pass.

"I killed a man," Eren tells Levi. His green eyes are downcast and his hands are balled into white-knuckled fists.

"You’re filthy," Levi blurts out. And Eren whips his head up to stare incredulously at Levi. Anger, sorrow and conflicted emotions at what he had done swirl in his eyes.

"But," Levi adds before Eren can say anything. "Go bathe. Clean yourself up. And we can continue where we last left off."

Eren’s eyes lighten up at that. He even lets out a dry laugh.

Levi tattoos a blood-red peony on Eren’s lower back.

It is the first of many.

 

—

 

Eren’s eyes turn harder. His jaw fills out and his cheeks lose their baby fat.

More peony petals fall onto his skin. They open and blossom into full flowers, and like them, Eren begins to confide in Levi. He tells him the number of men he has killed. How he wonders if he will find a solid lead on his mother’s killer. How he worries over the well-being of his clan, but especially of his younger sister, Mikasa, who has begun training as second-in-command. How Eren is torn between having her prodigy skills as his right hand, or letting her lead a normal life.

Levi marvels at it all. How someone so young could have so much to carry on his shoulders, that are still too narrow for such burdens. And despite it all, he remains resilient and hopeful.

Thus, Levi decides to color one wing white, and the other black. The duality irks Levi at first, but it feels fitting in the end.

 

—

 

The plum blossoms fall from the trees in Levi’s garden. Eren, then, has reached his _actual_ coming-of-age. He should be eighteen.

Levi expects Eren to turn up within the next few days.

He does not.

Levi pretends not to be disappointed.

Three months later, Eren does appear on his doorstep. It is a rainy day and the first time Eren has ever come on one.

Levi quickly ushers Eren in, clicking his tongue at the soaking mess of a boy (and how water gets everywhere on his pristine wood floors). He makes Eren bathe, promising him tea and soup for him when he finishes.

When Eren finally joins Levi in his guest room, he flops down beside him, long limbs splayed out lazily. Levi passes him a steaming cup of tea, already nursing his own.

Levi tilts his head to look at Eren. The young man’s hair has gotten long and unruly, and Levi leans over to push the mop out of his eyes.

What he sees are tired eyes that are barely-there glowing embers.

Levi does not tattoo Eren, even if it has been so long and he yearns to. He does tell Eren to stay the night and rest.

Eren ends up staying not just one night, but a whole two weeks.

 

—

 

Levi thinks he was right in his decision to make Eren’s wings black and white. The young man is a walking duality. He is both a leader and a child. He is pulled by his youth-like desires, but also the demands of his clan responsibilities.

The rain let up after two days and Levi rose with the sun, barging into the guest room he let Eren sleep in. Eren groans and grouches, burrowing himself further in the blankets to hide from the sunlight like any teenager.

"Oi, you’re not going to be a freeloader so long as you’re here. Draw some water from the well while I prepare breakfast," Levi orders, tossing a wooden bucket atop the lump that is Eren.

Eren grumps from the guest room to the well next to the house, Levi able to hear him from the kitchen the entire time. Eren does as told though, delivering the water to Levi, and washing vegetables when ordered to, even with his bedhead and drooping eyelids.

After a proper meal, though, Eren perks up, and his arm and legs move about restlessly until Levi barks at him to go wash his dishes to give him something to do. Eren speeds off to do just that, dishes clattering and water sloshing noisily from the wash area (Levi wonders how violently Eren washes dishes, as he finishes off his morning tea).

When Levi finds Eren again, Eren is working out and training. Eren is just finishing push ups in Levi’s yard, when Levi decides to bring his tools and clean them on the balcony there. Between shining his tattoo tools, Levi observes how Eren shadowboxes, fighting imaginary opponents with a glint in his eyes.

And so this became their routine for the next two weeks. The days were still heavy with rain, but on mornings where they were clear, Eren went through exercise drills. Levi would find some kind of work to do on his balcony.

Eren, despite his whining about getting up in the morning, is dutiful when it comes to his own exercise and training regiment. He is fidgety when not doing anything, and though he might pout when Levi orders him to do something at the crack of dawn, he obeys.

 

—

 

Levi is gradually running out of things he can do in the mornings while sitting on his balcony. He supposes that is one problem when you take in very few customers.

One morning, he brings out blank scrolls, brushes, and ink, deciding to practice some calligraphy after so long. It was something he had learned under his master’s tutelage, since it was a similar art to tattooing.

Eren, at one point, plops down beside Levi to take a look.

"Wow," Eren says.

Levi stops, brush in mid-air.

"Your calligraphy is _horrible_ ,” Eren says with a laugh he barely stifles to a snort. “Surprising, given what you do.”

And with a flick of the wrist, Levi swipes his brush up the skin of Eren’s arm in retaliation. Eren shrieks, “That tickles!” and hops up before he can be attacked again.

Eren pokes at the ink on his arm, standing a safe distance away from Levi in the backyard.

"It’s not coming off," Eren pouts. "I’m going to the well to wash it off."

Levi nods and Eren runs off.

Levi sighs. Black ink really does look good on Eren’s skin.

 

—

 

Eren gets lazy in the late afternoons, when the rain would start up again. Levi allows him into his library, and today Eren pulls out tattoo design scrolls.

Eren, topless from his morning workout, lies on his stomach in the guest room. Elbows propping him up, knees bent and feet swinging in the air (Seriously, when is he ever _not_ moving, Levi muses), he looks over a scroll that details traditional tattoo images and their symbolism.

Levi stares at Eren’s back, brainstorming over what to add next, for when he does deem it the right time to tattoo Eren again. Eren is tracing over cherry blossom petals on the scroll with his index finger, then moves on to the next standard flower image. He pauses and seems to ponder on the next red flower.

"Levi, this is the flower on my back, right?" Eren twists his head to look at Levi over his shoulder.

Levi slides his gaze from the clouds peeking out from Eren’s waistline and to the red flowers that Eren is tapping on the scroll.

"Peonies, yes," Levi replies.

Eren grins. “It says here they’re flowers associated with bravery.”

"Yes," Levi says, the corner of his lip quirking up. "And a daring _I don’t give a a fuck about consequences_ kind of attitude.”

Eren’s grins widens, and he says sheepishly, “Yeah, I can be guilty of that.”

The scroll does not say its other meaning.

"It’s also the King of Flowers," Levi says.

 

—

 

"What of your duties?" Levi grunts at him one overcast evening over tea.

Eren’s grin falters a little bit.

"Mikasa has taken over for me while I am away."

"And why have you come here?" Levi demands.

"Because this is the only place," Eren hesitates, his voice catching in his throat, "The only place I’m not looked at and demanded to be a leader. Or get looks of pity, or disappointment…"

Levi searches along Eren’s face, the much sharper jawline, the stresses that pull at his brows.

"Only here, with you," Eren continues. "Do I let down all my walls. You’re not an enemy, and an enemy wouldn’t think to target the one who tattoos me. I feel like I can tell you anything."

Eren shifts from gazing out to the garden to meet Levi’s stare.

Levi wonders when he stopped simply looking at Eren’s back and his body as a canvas, to actually paying attention to his eyes and the expressions of his face. Levi breaks their eye contact first. He sets down his tea.

"Show me your tattoos."

 

—

 

That night, Levi could not explain it, but there was something charged in the air. Perhaps it was the rainy evening, that had grown into a light thunderstorm.

Levi shuts the sliding doors and lights candles, casting everything in an orange glow. Eren, meanwhile, stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. A breeze rattles the doors and Levi pulls out blankets to fight the chill.

Once all preparations are complete, he nods to Eren, who then turns around so his back is to Levi. The rustle of cloth echoes loudly in the room, as Eren pulls open his robes with both hands and pulls them down. Shoulders and wingtips appear first, and immediately after the phoenix and a full back of peonies, feathers, clouds and waves, as the robe falls down with gravity.

The phoenix looks like it is engulfed in flames, lit only by the orange glow of candlelight. Levi steps forward, lips parting and hands lifting to reach out. This is his _masterpiece_. He has never been more proud of a work.

He presses his palms to Eren’s lower back, and Levi supposes his hands must be cold, for Eren gasps at the touch. Levi strokes his hands up Eren’s back, up to the jagged shoulders blades. He spreads his fingers from there to match the spread wings, then slithers his fingertips down the valley of Eren’s spine. He traces the outline of a peony with an index finger, pleased to find the ebony outlines still so dark. He thumbs the froth of a black ocean wave, and discovers a dimple above Eren’s buttocks. Eren twitches, and tries to cover a squeak with a cough. Levi brings both thumbs to massage those two little dips.

"Stop. That tickles," Eren blurts out with a hard exhale. Levi is pulled out of his reverie. He relents.

Then, he takes hold of the robes bunched at Eren’s hips, one hand on each side.

"Continue," Levi says. He is unsure himself if he had voiced that sufficiently enough for it to be heard as a question. However, Eren seems to have understood, for he nods and unties his sash, and Levi pulls the robes off of him.

Levi leans back to admire how Eren’s buttocks have rounded and firmed up even more over the years. The phoenix tail and clouds and waves wrap over the curved flesh even better than before. Levi reverently cups a buttock in each hand, testing the firmness by gently sinking his fingers in.

This time, Eren’s gasp is even sharper and he whirls around, grabbing Levi’s wrists, his hands shaking.

"Levi, please, I _can’t_ —”

Levi, with his arms still in Eren’s unsteady grip, presses his hands forward until they are pressed to Eren’s pectorals. His attention is briefly caught by the key hanging from Eren’s neck by a worn cord of leather. It is something that Levi noticed Eren pulling out from his pocket the other day, thoughtfully turning it over in his hands, but Levi had not asked. Levi is not distracted for long by it, but files it away in his head to inquire about later. Eren’s skin, a contrast against Levi’s pale hands, are far more distracting. Candlelight flickers over their skin, playing with the shadows where flesh sinks and slopes.

"I want to ink you here," Levi says, rubbing circles with his fingertips. Eren shudders and his hands fall helplessly to his sides.

"These arms, from shoulders to wrist, cover it in thick black stripes of ink," Levi whispers and strokes down Eren’s arms.

"Your chest," Levi breathes, his nose nearly nuzzling Eren’s sternum, "Down your sides, to your hips," Levi flutters his fingertips down to Eren’s narrow waistline, settles his hands on prominent hipbones, "I want to _fill you all up_.”

 

≡

 

Blankets strewn about, Eren is splayed out before him and barely holding himself up on his elbows and knees.

Levi unties the sashes of his robes, parting them and all the while watching how Eren shudders and how his tattoo writhes with him. Yes, Levi had chosen the perfect canvas. And though he had calculated it had potential, he never imagined to see one of his tattoos come to life this much.

He had gotten hard from the mere sight of Eren himself, and Levi shuffles closer, taking hold of his length and slipping it between the cheeks of Eren’s plump bottom. Eren keens and his hips arch up. Levi’s mouth slackens and he groans at the sight of his hardened length moving between the inked flesh.

Eren pleads, “Levi, please,” And steadies himself, and Levi ruts himself against Eren’s ass.

The swollen red crown of Levi’s cock, sliding against a backdrop of phoenix feather and clouds. Wings fluttering with Eren’s shoulder blades whenever they flex every time he gives a little moan. The rolling of ocean waves when Eren’s hips jerk when he begins to stroke himself.

Levi collapses forward and licks and laves his tongue over Eren’s tattooed back. He grabs Eren’s buttocks, squeezing them and tightening the valley around his cock which he continues to thrust between without pause.

Eren’s whines turn into a broken, “Ah, ah— _ah!_ ” and Levi feels fire curl through him from limb to limb and he knows he is close himself, so he pulls back, so he can see it all and take it all in. Levi digs his fingers into Eren’s ass, kneading the muscles and seeing how the inked lines give and pull with his ministrations. He parts Eren’s cheeks, and Eren groans in need, bucking up. Levi gasps and speeds up, his leaking tip making Eren slick. Levi licks his lips, enraptured by the sight of his precum glistening between that pert ass, gathering at the fluttering entrance. Gritting his teeth, he pushes Eren’s cheeks tighter around his throbbing length again and thrusts with abandon.

And with a final nail-sinking grab at Eren’s ass, he releases, painting white across Eren’s back. Eren finishes himself off but seconds later with a loud moan that dissolves into little coos as he milks every last bit of pleasure out.

 

≡

 

All wrapped up in one of the blankets, Eren props himself up on his elbows, watching Levi who sits on his right, turning over the boy’s key necklace in one hand.

"This could be the Key to everything," Eren explains. "The answer to everything I’ve been looking for all this time."

"Is that so," Levi mumbles. He drops the key, the movement making his still parted robes shift. Eren’s eyes are drawn to Levi’s bared skin at the movement, never having seen Levi’s flesh so open before.

"That wing on your left thigh. It kinda looks like the ones on my back."

Levi nods. “The wings. They’re my signature tattoo. All my clients have them in one form or another; However, you are the first person I have tattooed two completed wings on.”

 

—

 

Levi never took in just anyone to tattoo. He was selective, _obsessive_ even, of his art. No, one did not ask Levi to tattoo them; Levi chose the bodies and _what_ he tattooed on them.

They say a tattoo artist spends so many years perfecting his art. He trains for years as an apprentice under a master, and when he finally passes, he tattoos himself. The tattoo artist will then spend the rest of his life dedicated to his work, seeking the highest form of art he can make.

Rumor was it that Levi’s last and final patron was the son of a mafia lord.

"Yes, real threatening," Levi scoffs at the rumor. He rolls his eyes, and Eren chuckles beneath him.

"Now shut up and get on your back so I can finish my work."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't claim to know a lot about _irezumi_ (traditional Japanese tattoos), but I enjoyed researching it. Sources: [1](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irezumi), [2](http://www.irezumi.us/en/index.html), [3](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peony), [4](http://www.irezumiart.co.uk/irezumi-symbology/).


End file.
